


Hunters

by castielsass



Series: Hunters [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF, murderteeth - Fandom
Genre: Dark, F/F, M/M, Mavin, Murderteeth, dark mavin, officer!joel, officer!ray, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:21:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsass/pseuds/castielsass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Serial killer au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Daily Independent

MASSACRE AT FAMILY HOTEL

23/05/13  
Police were called this morning to local family-owned hotel ‘Riverside View’ after confused 911 calls from guests. Partial transcript of one 911 call on page 12. Police stumbled upon a terrifying scene at 11 a.m. The guests had been barred from the entire downstairs area and locked out from the main area, where the massacre occurred. The main area, usually a room used for parties, was splattered in blood. Three corpses lay in the main area and have since been identified as the hotel owners Rosemary and Robert Emilio and their youngest son Robert Jr.  
"It seems like the older son was brought into the main room after the hotel locked up for the night and he was restrained. The parents and younger son were killed first and abandoned in the hotel lobby. The mystery about the whole thing is really how the killer got the son into the room and incapacitated in the first place," says Detective Joel Heyman, lead detective assigned to the murder case. The murder details have yet to be released, but police have told us that there was a knife recovered at the scene. 

TRANSCRIPT:  
OPERATOR: …emergency?  
CALLER: Hello? Hello?  
DISTANT SCREAMS  
I’m calling, I’m calling because there’s something freaky happening, I don’t…  
OPERATOR: Ma’am? Can you give me your address?  
CALLER: The hotel, down on Baker street, there’s…he’s locked us all up here. There’s kids and old people here, we can hear screaming, we don’t…I don’t know what’s happening. We can hear screaming. We can’t leave-please, please send someone.  
OPERATOR: Ok ma’am, can you tell me who is threatening you?  
CALLER: No, no one is threatening me, we’re locked up here and something is happening down below, I think it’s…I don’t know.  
OPERATOR: OK ma’am I’ve informed the police, we have a squad car in the area. How many people are with you? Can you tell me who is screaming?  
CALLER: I read about these murders, the guys that go around killing people to impress each other or something, I don’t…do you think-  
OPERATOR: Ma’am, I just need you to focus and tell me how many people are with you.  
DISTANT SCREAMING  
CALLER: Oh God…Oh…I don’t know, I don’t know what’s happening, it sounds like he’s torturing them down there.

 

The Daily Independent

ADDITIONAL EVIDENCE UNCOVERED FROM RIVERSIDE VIEW HOTEL MASSACRE  
25/05/13

The slaughter of four people shook the town of Rockbury to its very core, but now it seems there may be a break in the case. Detective Heyman spoke to us briefly.  
"It seems that the video-that is to say, the CCTV that was in operation in the lower floor of the hotel has revealed some details about the killer. His face was covered but our analysts have put together a rough sketch, that will be released later on today. All I can tell you so far is that he seems to be a young man, in his twenties, below average height, average weight and short curly red-brown hair."  
When questioned about the details of the murder, Detective Heyman told us that the knife that was recovered at the scene proved to be a confusing piece of evidence. It lacked fingerprints but had apparently been left at the scene on purpose. 

"I mean, it was obvious-after he killed the parents and older boy, he taunted the son. I’d guess that was the ‘torture’ noises that were reported, his screams."  
We asked the detective about the note reportedly found on the knife, and he replied: “I can’t release that information until it’s been cleared fully. I can tell you that the police are making good headway in the case and we’re hoping to catch this guy as soon as possible. It’s a cliché, but we really have got our best men and women on the case.”

Though Detective Heyman could not speak further, we are hoping to get a full interview with him later on in the week. Although it has yet to be confirmed by the police, our sources reveal that the main officers working the case are Detective Heyman and his associate Officer Ray Narvaez Jr. We can also exclusively reveal that our sources tell us the knife was hand-carved bone and the note was a simple "happy birthday".


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for gore, mentions of alcohol and drug use, non-graphic mentions of abusive parent

The Daily Independent SLAUGHTER IN ROCKBURY, FOUR KILLED

27/05/13

Police were alerted early this morning to a video posted on the Internet of a graphic murder. Shortly afterwards, a call was made to 911. The video shows a man’s green and black shoes as he walks up a path to a door. He records the number of the house beside the door. The video cuts and the next scene is one of utter horror and destruction as three bodies lay dead and dying, and the fourth-the youngest male in the house at the time is shown tied sitting backwards to a chair. He is stripped shirtless and gagged. Across his back is a small drawing of what appears to be inner organs in dark liquid. While recording this, the intruder stabs the male in the back several times. The force breaks the chair and the man falls to the floor. The video ends with the killer standing in front of a mirror with his eyes covered by sunglasses. He smiles and waves and the recording cuts out.

Police are reportedly looking for a young male in his early twenties, tall and slender with short sandy blonde hair and stubble.

 

 

The Daily Independent

MURDER TAPE SCANDAL SITE TO BE SHUT DOWN

1/06/12

The string of murders across Texas, most recently the Hotel Massacre in Rockbury and the quadruple home invasion murder has stirred local outrage. Videos of each murder had been posted online. We spoke to Detective Heyman and his associate Officer Narvaez.

"Apparently... the videos have been taken deliberately by the killers, y'know sort of as a way of documenting their kills," a tired-looking Detective Heyman told us, as we sat down to discuss the theories. "They’ve been posting online from separate locations."

"It seems like they’re trying one-up each other, almost," adds Officer Narvaez, a small Puerto Rican officer who has been working primarily with Detective Heyman.

"Ray-er, Officer Narvaez has been attempting to track the IP addresses from the postings, and there seems to be at least two of them working separately but so far it hasn’t really been successful. But we have great hope that when we can figure out how they’re supporting the site itself and keeping it up, that’ll be another lead, you know, another breadcrumb for us to follow," said Detective Heyman.

"We’re going to get this whole mess straightened out as soon as possible and get these...guys in jail. After the trail of bodies they’ve left across Texas, it won’t be long until we’ve got enough to put them away for life. As yet there’s no evidence that they’ve worked together on anything, or ever even met, but there’s clearly some sort of connection there. That said, it's important to remain calm. We're all working hard to end this."

 

 

Michael slid down, sinking deeper into his couch. Xbox controller in one hand, beer in the other, he contemplated moving. He was centred now, close to everything he needed. He had become accustomed to living here, in this small apartment. He looked up, the low dark ceilings forcing a claustrophobic feel. Michael loved it. The darkness, the close walls, the secure silence when he shut the doors and slid under his bed, blankets layered thick around every gap. The air was stifling and hot, and it was so dark and quiet he could sink right into the harsh floorboards and remember everything he wanted to. But the police were closing in on him. They had video of him. Sloppy, low quality, but video still. They had even briefly shut his site down. Michael seethed, then rose abruptly and stalked over to his bed, sliding underneath it with well worn practice. He had quickly gotten his site back online after just a few hours but it had infuriated him. He had lost control afterwards, and it had been the first time he had been so angry he killed someone without even videoing it for the other boy. Michael rolled onto his side and drew his legs up to his stomach. He picked at the broken floorboards with his penknife. He twisted the blade into the wood, smugness rising in his chest and curling the corners of his mouth. They may have taken the knife, but they still didn’t know his name. Only Michael knew his name. Michael whispered it, digging the name into the scarred wood. He should check the site. Maybe the boy had posted something new. Michael whispered it once more, savouring the word. Gavin.

 

 

911 TRANSCRIPT

OPERATOR: “911, what is your-”

CALLER: “Please, please-”

OPERATOR: “Sir? Is there an emergency?”

CALLER: (laughs) “Yeah, there’s a (expletive) emergency. I need…(expletive) everybody. Just send everyone you got. There’s so much blood. It’s…I didn’t kno-

OPERATOR: “Sir, can you give me the address? What’s happened?”

CALLER: “Church Street, the blue house. I just…I just walked in, it’s my, I walk the dog here-and there was so much blood.”

OPERATOR: “Sir? Sir, where are you now? What has happened?”

CALLER: “I’m, I heard him, I hid. I couldn’t get to the door, I’m under the sink in the mudroom. It’s those (expletive) murders, the (slur deleted).”

OPERATOR: “The police are on their way sir, just-”

DISTANT NOISE IN CALLER’S LINE: “What did you call me?”

CRACKING NOISES

DISTANT SIRENS

SCREAMS

 

Ray crumpled up the transcript as the audio tape slowed and then stopped. He threw the balled up paper at Joel’s head. Joel turned and wrinkled up his nose.

“That’s so very important to the investigation right now, Ray, wow. I’m impressed by your sheer lack of caring about these multiple deaths,” Joel sighed.

“It’s not like we’re gonna bring ‘em back, dude. It’s two am. Let’s bounce,”

Ray urged, shadows under his eyes dark and deep.

Joel rolled his eyes in tandem with the wheels on his chair as he scooted over to his desk. He picked up a sheaf of paper, and sighed again. The site had come back online just a few hours after Ray had figured out how to shut it down. It was like every time he got a grip on one of the two murderers, the threads of their shirts slipped through his fingers and he lost them again. The behavioural analyst should arrive in the morning, in any case, but he still needed to fill out a brief report of the last interviewed witness.

Another ball of paper hit the back of his pen and bounced onto his jotter. He unrolled it.

_“if we get back to yours in ten minutes i’ll let you fuck me”_

 

“What’s the male version of a Lolita?” Joel said aloud, tossing the note into his desktop bin. Ray laughed and pulled his hood up on his head, curling his hands in the sleeves. Joel sighed.

 

“Get in the car, I’m going to lock up.”

 

Barbara pulled her black Camaro into the parking Lot of a Wendy’s, stabbing the pause button on her stereo with a blue fingernail. She sighed. Lindsay shared her scowl, and handed her her beeping cellphone.

"Yep," Barbara answered, turning to rummage through her bag for a pen.

"Hi, it’s Detec-Joel, it’s Joel Heyman? Just calling to make sure you got the audio we had sent to you?" 

Lindsay prodded her shoulder and handed her a pen. Nodding her thanks, Barbara scribbled down the number that had come up on the caller ID on her hand. She held it out to Lindsay who copied it into her small laptop, and began to type with the speed of lightening striking each key. Barbara watched her, then pressed play on the stereo, holding the cellphone against the speaker to catch the noise that poured out.

Joel snapped his head back in surprise when his own voice leaked down the line.

"…believed to have become active in early two thousand and three, his-"

Barbara pressed the phone back to her ear, and before she could get a word out Joel asked “do I really sound like that?”

Barbara rolled her eyes and Lindsay stuck her tongue out at her, fingers still moving on her laptop keys. Barbara watched her. 

"I have the all of the files, please stop calling me. And stop worrying. I’ll be there in…" she quirked an eyebrow at Lindsay who held up two hands.

"Ten minutes?"

"Do you need directions?" Joel asked.

Lindsay took the phone from Barbara and answered.

"Nope, I got you. And you should seriously consider getting a new phone. That old Nokia is about the easiest thing to trace since Garfield."

 

The Daily Independent

IDENTITIES OF TEXAS KILLERS REVEALED

Late this morning, our reporters discovered exclusive information on the identities of the two males who have became known as the Hunters after the astonishing seventeen murders committed between them. Our source claims that each male began with one murder each, which quickly escalated. Using new video editing technology, our source was able to give us a rough image of each suspect. While the names of these suspects are not yet known, our source remains confident that it will soon be revealed.

image

image

Joel flung the newspaper at the floor and stamped on it furiously. Ray watched him impassively, sucking on the green straw jammed into his coke can.

"How did they get this?"

Ray shrugged, and Joel threw his hands up behind his head.

"They have pictures, Ray! We don’t even have pictures!"

"Now we do," Ray pointed out, lifting one shoulder in a half shrug.

"That’s not the point, kid, how did they get-"

A harsh knock rattled the door, and a tall blonde woman with red lipstick and killer heels strode in, followed by a sweet looking redhead in a hoodie and jeans. The redhead happily dropped her laptop case on Joel’s desk and plopped into the chair behind it, immediately plugging the laptop into the wall socket and herself into the laptop.

"Er, uh, uh-" Joel said, hands rising up to flap at the red headed woman like he was urging away a particularly pesky fly. The blonde woman appeared in front of him, frowning. 

"I’m SSA Barbara Dunkelman. This is my partner, Technical Analyst Lindsey Tuggey."

The redhead piped up from the corner.

"You can call me T-Do-"

"Do not call her T-Dog," Barbara interjected.

A few hours later, Joel had set up camp by the small couch across from his desk, and he had built himself into the cushions and surrounded himself with sheets and files. Lindsay had sole control of his desk, Ray was at his own and Barbara was sitting on the tiny armchair across from the couch.

"Alright, I'm ready to give a brief profile. Linds, Ray, if you could come sit down," Barbara said, shutting her laptop decisively and picking up a tablet. Ray slunk into the couch beside Joel and tucked his feet under him. Lindsay chose to stand beside Barbara, her own tablet tucked securely under her arm.

"This profile is what I have pieced together from the behaviour and actions of both unsubs, and their relation to each other. It is merely a starting point for understanding how the unsubs think and it may help narrow down the search and possibly predict their next move," Barbara recited, while Lindsay mouthed the words behind her, pretty eyes fixed to the ceiling.

”Ok, so I’ve established the communication to be distant. They've never met-“

Joel interrupted “They’ve never met? So then why are they so invested in each other?”

Barbara parted her lips to answer him but before she could inhale, Lindsay bounced a hair clip off his face. “Don’t interrupt. I’m gonna need that back, actually if you could…just. Yeah,” she mumbled, retrieving her clip.

"As I was saying, they’ve never met. Whether this was a conscious choice or not, I don’t yet know, but I do know that because of the quick escalation of the kills, they’re probably gonna meet soon. So far their only contact has been through the website, that we know of. Here is what we know from gathered evidence; unsub one, began the website privately as a way to log his own murders, a place to store his video of each kill that he could access from anywhere. Unsub two, somehow found out about this site and hacked it, letting himself in as administrator. One was furious, tightened his security. Two hacked it again, and began to post his own videos, almost copying each of One’s kills. Something then happened that allowed them to coexist, both posting equally evolving kill videos. Profiling, that’s what helps us figure out what happened."

Lindsay whipped out her tablet and began to tap the screen smoothly, one tooth hooked over her bottom lip.

"Lindsay and I believe that Unsub One is a dominant personality type. He thrives in situations where he is able to order everything in his own life. He desires control, something to hold dominion over. He does not value human life, and if he had the option he would have killed Two before he ever got a chance to hack him again. He is mostly driven by sheer rage. That is what drove his first murders. We see his first and second murder. He worked alone, and it was sloppy, furious. He stabbed the first victim thirty-seven times. Complete over-kill. Driven by total fury. He is spontaneous. His victim type is originally seems massively varied, he killed mothers, fathers, doctors, teachers, whomever. So instead, we focus on which of his victims he spent the most time with; young males and females. People he found attractive. Unsub One is a white male in his twenties, below average height, bisexual, probably with tattoos. He lives alone, craves small places where he can be alone. However, Unsub Two is a different kind of animal. More of a submissive type, he thrives in situations where he can impress an authority figure. He probably lives with parental figures, but they were not the pair that raised him. He has probably distanced himself from his upbringing in every way possible, adopting a new way of life, even new parents."

Joel furrowed his brows and wrote something down in a furious scribble. 

"His kills were callous, but situational. He didn’t originally seek out victims, he killed opportunistically, slipping poison into a neighbour’s water supply, strangling a prostitute. When he discovered Unsub One, he was determined to get underneath his skin-" Barbara paused in her monologue when Lindsay coughed awkwardly.

"Uh, not that way. He just wanted to understand him. Erm, yeah, Unsub Two, white male, probably gay, above average height, below average weight. He is self conscious about his appearance, as is obvious from his habit of turning the face of his victims away from him. I believe this idea he has of not wanting the corpses to see him may potentially develop into him surgically removing the eyes of his victims. However, he is charming. Where One is coarse and difficult to befriend, Two is manipulative, charming, he makes casual friends easily, and he has a habit of befriending people in high places. They…" Barbara paused again, trying hard to think of her next words. Joel was listening intently. Ray was either taking notes on his phone, or texting. 

"They benefit each other, they soak up the other’s attention, in the worst kind of way. Because they’re always seeking to impress each other, they escalate and evolve at an alarmingly high pace. If we don’t catch them soon, I think they will meet and evolve into…possibly the worst serial killers America has ever seen."

Joel’s father was distant, but kind, usually preferring to take in a silent game, or make small talk about stocks and investments over hot morning coffee. He taught him how to recite his Miranda Rights, how to handcuff a perp and how to connect the dots of a crime.

"Do you think Two could be an immigrant?" Joel nudged Barbara, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. "You mentioned he wanted to change everything about his life, his parents, all that. Maybe he’d wanna change his home too."

Lindsay overheard, and took a note when Barbara nodded at her, following that hint down a rabbit hole of pulsing cursors and flickering screens.

Barbara’s father had been a physicist, and had disapproved of her line of work until one year shortly after her promotion to SSA her profile caught a murderer who had solely focused on children. After that, her father had still had his doubts about the validity of her chosen field, but he kept those to himself. That was all Barbara had ever wanted from him. 

When Ray slid into the small office she and Lindsay were currently sharing with Detective Heyman, she observed his entrance. Small, light steps, knees slightly bent. His hands were folded up in the sleeves of his too-large hoodie. He slid around the door smooth and slow like honey from a spoon. Barbara wondered.

Ray’s father had been a drunk, abusive and loud, always waiting for a reason to be better and an excuse to be worse. He had rarely shared anything of wisdom with him, except the brief moments of drinker’s clarity he received every night. From his father, Ray had learned never to drink, not to fall asleep smoking and to always hide his weed in a baggie underneath the coffee grounds in the kitchen. From his father, Ray had learned how to roll a joint, how to take a punch, how to soak bruises in vinegar to fade them. Little else he learned had been of use at the time.

"News," Ray offered, placing his tablet on the table in the centre of the couch and armchair. "I think I figured out some kind of code. They’ve been communicating through the murders. Remember the note One left in the hotel murder?"

Barbara uncrossed her legs, tip of her pen jammed under her lower lip. “Yeah?”

"I think they’ve been swapping names. All I’ve got yet though is one name. Gavin."

"It stands to reason that if they’ve gone to the trouble of developing a code to communicate, they’d have established a safe place to meet and hole up if the heat gets too much," Joel pondered.

Lindsay’s fingers snapped down on her keyboard like mice chasing crumbs. Barbara asked “Cross-referencing ‘Gavin’ with people who immigrated to Texas in the past ten years?”

"Way ahead of ya, babe," Lindsay said.

"Don’t call me babe in work," Barbara mumbled, almost blushing.

"Gotcha, sugartits.

"Babe is fine."

 

The Daily Independent

MURDERER DISCOVERED, GAVIN FREE

Still on the loose, one of the serial killers known as the Hunters has been identified. Gavin Free, whereabouts currently unknown, is reportedly the sandy haired twenty year old responsible for seven murders in Austin, Texas. Police warn people not to approach Free as he may be armed and dangerous. 

Michael stood up from his computer, mind laced with the words he had just read. Gavin Free. He legs felt heavy and he sat back down, arms hanging uselessly at his sides. It wasn’t fair. 

When Michael was a child, his father had once jogged into the woods behind their house to find him. He stumbled across Michael carefully slicing fur from the broken, mewling body of a cat, hidden behind a thick tree. His father had slid to his knees in the cold muck and slapped him across the face. He told him it was a bad thing to do, to hurt something living. When Michael protested that the cat had a broken neck and would have died anyway, his father had grabbed him by the goose-bumped arm and hauled him to his feet. He told him to put it out of its misery. He folded his arms and watched as Michael pulled the knife he had stolen from the kitchen free of the clinging mud. His father had flinched when Michael slipped the blade through the delicate skin and torn the tendons of the cat’s throat. That was when Michael had realised he was different from his father. But his lesson always stayed with him, buried beneath the wiry muscles of his chest like a knife in a cat’s neck.

When Michael slipped in through the open window of a small, dingy bathroom in an apartment in downtown Austin, the flinch his father had given was playing through his mind. When he let himself into the only bedroom, and hid in the messy closet, his father’s voice was echoing through his veins. This was the only time he would wilfully break that unspoken deal.

He opened the door a few hours later with no shame and knelt on the slim figure resting on the bed, the words engraved in his head came to a blissful ease. 

When Ray entered the office again, he was carrying a big brown box with a neatly labelled "Detective Joel Heyman" pasted on top of it. Joel pursed his lips, and tore the packing tape from the split of it’s opening. Barbara stood to look, peering into the box. The smell made Joel take a step back and Lindsay gag and even Barbara angled her head back. “Ew,” Ray mumbled, lifting the tab of the box to look inside.

"What the h-Oh my God!" Ray shoved the box away from him so violently that it spilled sideways. A long red chunk flopped out and onto the floor, splitting open at the side and vomiting forth yellow and white ooze. Joel crouched down to take a proper look.

"Is that an arm?" Lindsay demanded, covering her nose. "Why, why, why."

"Looks like there’s something written on it," Barbara said, getting down on her haunches like Joel.

"Burned into it, more like," Joel muttered.

"Does that say ‘Michael’?" Ray demanded. "I think it says ‘Michael Jones’."


	3. Chapter 3

Michael packed up his backpack with unusual care, placing a shiny gun he had never used into the first compartment. He stood and shook out his hair, rubbing his eyes. With less care, he threw a bottle of water and a fresh tshirt on top of the gun. He packed nothing else. He slipped calloused feet into worn sneakers and pulled his beanie hat onto his head. He locked the apartment door behind him, and walked swift and sure towards the centre of town, aiming for the mall. On the way, he stopped by a mismatched group of people listening to a radio.

"-again, Michael Jones. He may be armed and is certainly dangerous, police warn not to approach him. If you do see him, please call the hotline-"

Michael stashed his apartment keys in a dumpster behind the group of absorbed people.  
At the mall, he pulled his beanie off his head and chose a bench, somewhat elevated to sit on. His backpack rested against his feet, his arms hooked over the top of the bench. Across from him, a book store’s doors opened and a bell twinkled. Michael smiled. A light body landed inches away from him. He unwound a green scarf from his neck and smiled at Michael. Michael grinned back, eyes crinkling at the corners like crumpled paper. They waited, together.

Joel flicked a ball of scribblings into the trash can, and leaned back hard in his chair, sighing. Ray leaned over his back, positioned as if he were showing Joel something on his computer. He pressed a small, sweet kiss to his cheek. Joel smiled tiredly, and lifted his hand briefly to cup the side of Ray’s neck.  
"He’s all over the news, it’s not gonna be long before someone spots him. Not in this super-connected world," Lindsay said, not lifting her eyes from her laptop strewn diagonally across Joel’s desk. Apparently sensing Joel’s mood too, Barbara nodded briefly. Her contribution to comforting Joel finished, she returned to carefully printing diagnostic techniques into her notebook.  
The phone shrilled, and simultaneously a detective burst into Joel’s office. He looked as though he had been composed entirely of half-hearted ideas.  
"Jack, wh-" Joel started.  
"We got him, we fucking got them both."

At the squad car Ray slipped into the front seat swiftly, cutting Barbara off at the door, half seconds behind Joel. She and Lindsay hopped into the back seat, frowning as the tires worked hard against the ground, spinning up chunks of dust and broken stone. Jones and Free had been arrested mere miles from Joel’s station. They were sharing a holding cell in an inoffensive little police station. At the station, Joel burst in, Ray clipping his heels and he raised his eyebrows at a bewildered looking officer. Another darker officer sat behind the desk, hand cupped on his own chin. He nodded at them. The first officer, the paler blonde one, led them to the cell Free and Jones shared with the air of a fisher who cannot believe his catch.

The cell was incredibly old-fashioned, with plexiglass covering two thirds of the entrance wall. Joel stood close enough to touch the glass that separated him from the serial killers. Neither looked at him.

Free stood, leaning an unusually lanky body against the steel sink in the corner. Jones sat slumped on the bottom bunk bed, his hands around his own calves. Sensing a presence, Jones raised his eyes to the glass. Free stood straight. Jones stiffened his back and softened his face, eyes travelling over Joel. Joel’s hand automatically twitched towards his gun, and his spine prickled. Ray placed his hand over Joel’s moving one, calming him. Jones smiled, a chilling move that unnerved Joel.

The viewing had the same feel as visiting a circus and seeing a lion out in the ring. The hot air of tension, the feeling that at any moment the lion could turn and swipe at you as if you were no more than a bothersome mosquito. That was how Joel felt and it infuriated him. He felt like an ant, waiting for this lion and his hyena to turn and step on him. They probably wouldn’t even notice, he realized with an uncharacteristic stab of fear. He would be just another body to step over. Joel’s hand closed around his gun, but he restrained himself from pulling it from the holder. His nails scratched over worn leather as Ray’s hand closed more firmly on his. Suddenly a blinding pain shot through Joel’s forehead and he reared back automatically. There was a hand on the back of his head, and it yanked him back from the plexiglass it had slammed him into. His gun was pulled from the holder and Joel reached for it automatically, face scrunched up in pain. High laughter echoed out from the cell at him and he saw Free laughing, Jones had moved without Joel even noticing. He stood with his own hand in Free’s hair. He wasn’t smiling. Joel looked down dully as his own gun shoved against his ribcage. It was warm. Joel heard the screech and felt the swell of the bullet before he felt the pain. Free screamed in joy and Jones now joined him, laughing out a victorious “Glack, glack!”

Joel blinked dizzily and felt blood rush from his head to his stomach. He staggered and fell on his back. Ray stood above him, stolen gun bloodied at the muzzle.

"Sorry."

The officers at the desk had rushed to the hallway at the sound of the gun, their own drawn. Ray turned and fired two shots precisely into the blonde one. One in the head, one in the heart. A single bullet in the head of the darker officer ended him in a spray of red, grey and white. Lindsay and Barbara had followed the police and stood frozen at the head of the corridor. Ray blinked slow. Barbara was pointing a gun at him. Almost offended, he lifted Joel’s gun to point at Lindsay.  
"Two bullets, Ray, you sure you wanna use them on her?" Barbara shouted, her own gun trembled against her wrist.  
"Two guns, Barbara," Ray said, pulling his own out.  
He landed one bullet in Lindsay’s thigh before Barbara cocked her own and shot at him. She screamed in fury. Lindsay collapsed. Ray ducked and threw himself forward, his momentum letting him knock Barbara over. He slammed the butt of his pistol into her temple and she fell hard. Lindsay grabbed at his waist with strong fingers and he kicked her hard in the head. Growling like an animal she lifted herself at him and Ray had to shove the tip of his gun into her bullet wound on her thigh to stop her. She passed out from the pain and blood loss, but Ray kicked her again to make sure.

Ray pulled the keys from the belt of the fallen officer, his fingers barely grazing cooling skin before he ripped them away and opened the cell. Gavin flew out of the door, grinning wildly.  
"Ray!" He sang, throwing his arms hard over Ray’s shoulders. Michael was slower, stepping over Joel’s twitching body and pulling Ray towards him in a bloodied hug.  
"What’s up, BrownMan," he grinned.  
Ray rolled his eyes. “You done? Let’s get out of here.”  
"Nice job, Lads!" Gavin laughed, on his knees by Barbara. He pulled her gun out of her lax hand and threw it to Michael at the same time Ray tried to hand Michael Joel’s weapon. He jumbled them jokingly for a second before tossing one to Gavin.

"Alright, let’s grab some supplies and head to the safe house. Nicely done, by the Ray,” Gavin grinned, jabbing a bony elbow into Ray’s side before rushing to the cabinet behind the officer’s desk. Michael rolled his eyes and kicked the cheap lock off the cabinet, swinging the doors open and grabbing the guns stashed there. Ray searched the drawers of the desk until he found a folded up grocery bag.  
"Not classy," he remarked handing the bag to Michael Wall*Mart logo side up. "But it’ll work."  
"Alright, let’s do this," Michael lifted the bag, guns clinking against each other like bells, surprisingly light. Ray holstered his gun.  
"Gavin! Let’s go!" Michael shouted. Gavin appeared at the door of the room, grinning. He shook a set of keys at them.  
"Who wants to steal a cop car?" He teased.


End file.
